I am finding it desperately hard to draw on the computer and impossible to draw well enough or good enough to do a physical real world pastel. This is gutting..
Yesterday was a very bad pain day on top of everything rise. I wrote this poem and nanaged a loose finger drawing to try to express my reality which is a nightmare.
I just pray that God hears my need and answers my prayers for healing restoration and hope. Amen
My head is pounding,
my temples are throbbing
rhythmically
in time with the tormenting,
agonising throb
that is pounding me,
in the centre of my feet,
the one that is also assaulting me
in the midpoint of my shins,
along with the intense,
burning,
never-ending throb
that carves into my hands,
pulls at my inner wrists,
my lower and upper arms
and even my armpits,
my back,
my sides,
my chest muscles,
my neck,
the back of my head
and distorts the senses in my face.
My mind has reduced.
My language has deconstructed down
to irritable swearing and angry words,
destroyed literally
by the slightest sound, movement , jolt or surprise.
All articulate,
beautiful,
sensitive,
aware,
meaningful language
is lost,
buried in a sea of dark, empty matter
that should contain my thoughts and images,
in grand hue and vibrancy,
instantly shattered.
All hope of better moments,
the creative process I love,
the interactions I long for,
everything becomes literal,
reduced,
stripped,
has flown away,
in a desolate, empty screech
of anguish.
I have lost all
meaningful,
helpful,
interactive
communication.
I am a bear growling in indefinable,
indescribable distress.
I cannot see clearly.
My view has utterly,
indescribably
diminished,
blurred already,
it shuts me down
into more invisible,
hidden, dark quarries
in my body.
I am lost to the outside world completely.
Everything hurts me.
Everything is hurting
outside and inside me.
No part is untouched.
The throbbing consumes me.
I want to stab at it,
foolish as this would be,
in reality.
My limbs have gone to molten jelly.
Only the thtob tells me I still exist
in any physical way.
The thtobbing overwhelms any sense of me
It beyond torments me.
This throb that berates me.
This throb that incapacitates me,
Along with the refusal of my hands to feel,
my feet to bend,
my legs to carry me
my fingers to grip,
my jaw to move,
Is an unstoppable part of me
It is my heart beat pounding
Torturing every cell in my body as it
Ironically brings life.
But what life has it wrought for me
Twisted into an unrecognizable creature
Who cannot live in the world
And loses all sense of meaning repeatedly
As a consequence
of my terrible, increased sensitivity to it.
